


Don't Threaten Me With a Good Time

by Torchiclove



Series: Cr Rarepair Week 2017 [1]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Day drinking, F/F, Year off fic, the kimallura is mostly background
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-03
Updated: 2017-09-03
Packaged: 2018-12-23 08:43:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11986284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Torchiclove/pseuds/Torchiclove
Summary: Kima's bored while Allie's at a council meeting, and she takes her wife's advice to seek the company of one Shaun Gilmore.Rarepair week day one: non-romantic pairing





	Don't Threaten Me With a Good Time

"Allliiiieeeee…” Kima whined, clinging to her wife’s arm as she tried get up. Allura easily shook off her tired arms, turning her head to look sternly at the sleepy halfling in her bed.

“I have council business, Kima,” she said gently, but firmly. She turned her head, her hair falling into place in its usual braids as she waved her fingers with an arcane spark. “Besides, I already missed the last meeting. That’s why I have to go _today_.”

Kima looked away sheepishly, recalling the last time on a morning just like this, when Allura had been a little less strong of will. She quieted down and watched Allura quickly get ready (because Kima had convinced her to stay in bed just a little too long). 

Allura had perfected the art of using magic to speed up her morning routine and was ready within minutes. “You know I’ll be home late, there’s still so much paperwork left to take care of…” she trailed off for a second, putting a few last minute items into her bag, “But if I have the time I’ll send you a message.” She turned to face Kima and smiled, the soft and genuine kind that melted her heart. “Don’t stay cooped up all day without me, go have fun. See if Shaun’s busy, I think you’d like his company.”

Allura walked up to Kima, now sitting up in bed, and kissed her, longer than a quick goodbye peck but still not long enough. She traced her fingers down Kima’s jawline and paused to give a quick, almost whispered, “Love you.” She was out the door just as Kima, dumbstruck, returned the sentiment.

Bahamut above, how did she _do_ that?

 

Kima was stubborn if anything, especially when she didn’t get what she wanted (especially if that thing she wanted was Allura), and she became dedicated to having a bad day. She grumbled her way out of bed, now too awake to really go back to sleep, and made a meagre breakfast. She muttered her daily prayers to Bahamut, but her heart wasn’t in it. Her heart was in the palace where Allura sat with the rest of the people trying to rebuild the damned city, with a patience that Kima knew she’d never have.

She knew, in the back of her mind, that pouting like this was pathetic, but it didn’t stop her. She languished around Allura’s tower, her boredom only fueling her bad mood. She pulled books off the shelf to read, but got bored a few pages in. She trained with her holy avenger, but even after the physical exertion she was still filled with restless energy, and it was only noon. She’d nearly resorted to staring at the wall when she felt a familiar tickle in the back of her head.

“Hello, dear. Meeting’s over but I still have a lot to do. Be home as soon as I can. Love you, have fun.” Allura’s voice spoke quietly in the back of her mind, and she felt her heart melt a little. She hated that her messages had to be so concise, but even the short remark was enough to break her out of her mood.

Deciding to take Allura’s advice, Kima reluctantly pulled her hair back and changed out of her training gear, but still kept her sword at her hip as she walked out of the tower and into the streets of Emon, towards Abdar’s Promenade.

 

Gilmore’s Glorious Goods, recently reconstructed, was as impressive as ever. It was nearly the same as it had always been-not that Kima had really gotten a good look at the place before the dragons burned it down. Gaudy purples and blues adorned the outside of the squat, one-story building, and Kima still got a sense of vertigo when she pushed past the beaded door to find herself in a much larger shop than was possible given the dimensions of the building.

It was mostly empty, aside from a middle-aged woman browsing noncommittally and the ever-loyal Sherri at her post. The half-elven woman looked up from the books she was reading, peering at Kima through her thick glasses. “Can I help you?” 

“Yeah, where’s Gilmore?”

Sherri gave her a glare and closed the book, louder than necessary, and Kima bristled with irritation. The woman walked through another curtain of beads, and following her but a moment later was Gilmore, wearing a wide smile.

“Kima!” he greeted, spreading his arms in the familiar Gilmore fashion, but ultimately going in for a handshake rather than a hug. Kima accepted, her grip much firmer than necessary. “Now what brings you to my fine establishment?”

“I’m here on Allie’s request,” Kima said, realizing then that she didn’t have a plan of action thus far. “She, um, she’s on council business and suggested that you show me around town.”

Gilmore raised an eyebrow at her.

“We’ve been busy since I moved in with her here and I haven’t gotten the chance to really explore the new Emon, you know.”

The mild curiosity vanished, replaced at once with Gilmore’s glorious grin. “Alright, then, Lady Kima. Sherri, mind the shop while I’m gone!” He said this as a passing remark while ushering Kima out of the door, and they could just hear Sherri’s exasperated sigh.

“So, any requests? Somewhere you’ve been dying to see?” 

“I don’t really know what’s around,” Kima said, realizing that is was actually true. She didn’t get out much, preoccupied with helping her wife with council work, or more often just helping her decompress after a stressful day. “Where’s the best place to get day drunk?

“I was hoping you’d ask!” Gilmore ushered her off again, and Kima hated to admit that she struggled to keep up on the crowded streets. Damn tiny legs, she thought.

Gilmore chattered while they walked, in an over-the-top, tour-guide way, like he was talking to somebody who’d never set foot in Emon. “...And there’s the ramshackle husk of an old blacksmith! You can really see the fire damage so nicely in the sunlight, just beautiful. Now, if you turn this way, you’ll see where the best taverns used to be…” He seemed delighted with his own extended joke at the state of the city, still recovering, and Kima couldn’t help but laugh.

In truth, she didn’t know Gilmore that well, and she a little uncomfortable. She’d fought with him in battle, and there was a sort of camaraderie in that respect, but she’d really never _talked_ to him. Whenever she was with Allie, the two of them would get caught up in lengthy discussions about arcane practices, and Kima had only ever seen Gilmore when Allura did. She thought, surprisingly, that without her wife she was sort of a shut-in. Gods, she thought, what Vasselheim does to a girl.

She picked up her pace and joined Gilmore in his joking until they finally walked, laughing, into a rebuilt tavern that seemed faintly familiar. 

“Do you recognize this one, Kima? It’s Vox Machina’s old haunt, back when Emon meant something to them!” Gilmore chuckled at himself as he made his way to the Laughing Lamia, which was mostly empty, it being just an hour after noon.

Even for some of the most dedicated drunks, this early was a bit of a stretch. That didn’t stop Gilmore from strutting in the place and ordering a round of their finest, his ostentatious personality unimpressive to the long-suffering barmaid that just nodded and went to work. 

Kima felt a wash of nostalgia for her old days as a less respectable adventurer, frequenting taverns and picking fights, because they all started like this. She couldn’t help the smile that crept across her face as Gilmore handed her a tankard and they took a table to themselves.

There were only two other people in the place, both sitting quietly and nursing ales, as one does in the months following a dragon attack. The taverns were slowly getting less full as the rebuilding effort continued, but there were always those who’d lost everything. Or, in some cases, those whose wives weren’t home.

“So, how’s Emon treating you?” Gilmore asked after a long drink.

“You know, it’s actually been pretty nice,” Kima said, already halfway through her ale.

“Much more fun than Vasselheim, no?” He hid his knowing grin behind his tankard, but Kima could see the edges of his bright-white teeth.

“Gods, you don’t know the half of it. I didn’t realize how _suffocating_ that place was. Everyone had a holy pole up their ass,” Kima said, putting her head in her hands, “I’m just glad to be out of there.”

“Well I’m happy to hear you’re enjoying yourself,” Gilmore chuckled, “I thought you might get bored, what with the humdrum of rebuilding.”

“It’s an uphill battle,” Kima said flatly, and she let out a long sigh. “It’s no dragon slaying, but it’s an adventure of its own.”

“Hm.” Gilmore raised his eyebrows and downed the rest of his drink. “It’s always easier with friends.” She caught his subtle glance at the gold and platinum band around her ring finger.

Kima smiled, and she felt her chest swell with the familiar warm feeling she got every time she looked at the wedding ring, the physical reminder that she’d never be separated from Allie again. 

“I never properly congratulated you two,” Gilmore said. The barmaid came by and refilled their tankards without a word, and they were silently grateful for the alcohol to ease the tension.

“Sorry there wasn’t really anything, it was just so spur of the moment,” Kima said sheepishly. It had only been about a month, and they’d been so busy since, they didn’t really have time to discuss it with the friends that didn’t get invited (which was, essentially, all of them).

“How the hell did you talk her into that?” Gilmore asked incredulously.

“I told her I couldn’t bear another day that I couldn’t call her my wife.” She felt embarrassed, because it was cheesy but true. She didn’t even know Gilmore that well, and was far too sober to blame the alcohol for telling him. The domestic bliss was really making her go soft. 

“Ah, you crazy kids,” Gilmore laughed.

“I’m older than you are,” Kima said, rolling her eyes at him. They both chuckled at that and downed their drinks.

For the finest ale in the house, it really wasn’t that good, but there wasn’t much to expect in a city brought through hell so recently. Both of them, Kima especially, could appreciate alcohol for what it was, and got steadily more drunk as time wore on.

Gilmore impressed her with how much he could keep down, but between them it was still no contest. Kima always loved someone who could drink her under the table, but she also felt the tickle of her competitive streak and was happy to be winning.

Quite a few hours and quite a few ales later, they’d talked about everything they could think of; reminiscing on their most recent combat, detailing the finer points of reconstruction, laughing about their shared memories of Vox Machina. They decided, at the same time, that they’d likely overstayed their welcome at the Laughing Lamia, if the glares from the barmaid were anything to go by.

The late afternoon sun still shone hot on the city as they stumbled out, fully day drunk, to find their next haunt. They’d agreed that it was time for a pub crawl, but there was time to kill before the taverns got into full swing. 

What better way to spend three tipsy hours in Emon than in a shop of magical wares?

They found their way back to Gilmore’s Glorious Goods, empty now except for the astute half-elf sitting behind the counter, having moved on to a different book.

“Sherri!” Gilmore called as soon as he saw her, spreading his arms wide and his smile wider. Sherri offered him only a glance, and Kima swore she saw her roll her eyes. 

“Back so soon?” she asked dryly.

“Come on, Sherri, lighten up. How often is it that I get out of the shop?” 

Sherri didn’t say anything, only eyed Kima for a second and went back to her reading. 

“Ignore her,” Gilmore said in a not-so-subtle loud whisper, bending down slightly as if he was trying to get closer to Kima’s ear. “Now, follow me upstairs, I’m gonna show you all the cool shit I have.”

Gilmore has a surprising amount of cool shit, especially given the circumstances. The shop had been ransacked and burnt to the ground only five months ago, and now it has an impressive stock of magical trinkets that glittered on the shelves. He began walking her around, chatting about where he’d acquired items, what they did, and how the business was going.

“...I mean, I shouldn’t complain, but my biggest customers are gone because I can’t compete with _vestiges_!” Kima wondered what the first half of the statement was, lost as she looked over an impressive weapons display.

“Who needs magic items when those assholes are around saving the world and shit,” she muttered.

“Exactly! They just don’t adventure like they used to.” He shook his head, disappointed, and quickly shifted his mood as something caught his eye. “Speaking of Vox Machina, you know what’s the most interesting potion I’ve ever made?”

Kima looked quizzically at him as he walked over to a shelf and picked up a vial of blue liquid, swishing it around and watching the faint, arcane swirl. “Scanlan commissioned it-”

“Dear Bahamut, do I even want to know?” Kima asked, rolling her eyes. Still, she found herself drifting over to look.

“It’s a scrying potion,” Gilmore started, “And I wasn’t sure how it would work. But you drink it, and then you scry through the shit!” 

“Why should you have expected anything else?” Kima asked with a sigh. She wasn’t excited by the arcane intricacies of shit-scrying; moreso, she just wanted to see some powerful magic items, preferably weapons.

Gilmore, seeing her disinterest, did not disappoint, and waved Kima over to a rack of glimmering swords. He was a bit frazzled as she immediately started swinging them - “Please be careful with that!” - but Kima knew what she was doing.

“I definitely like the fire,” she said, hefting a large, black greatsword with intricate engravings on the hilt. The blade shimmered with heat and it left a faint trail of flames behind as she swung it through the air, “But I’ve still got it beat.” She placed a hand on the sword at her hip and smirked. 

“Vox Machina, once again thwarting my business with their dragon slaying.”

“I was there for that one! I earned this sword,” Kima said defensively, “And it would’ve been damn useful against that goristro.”

“Oh, please, I shudder at the thought. They dragged me into the last fight, but never again.” Gilmore, for just a second, looked genuinely haggard at the thought.

“Where’s your spirit for battle, Gilmore?” Kima asked jokingly, giving the sword another swing.

“It died the first time that giant red bastard almost cut me in half. I’m perfectly fine being safe in my shop. I could never see a dragon again and live a peaceful life.”

Kima looked disappointed, but then light sparked in her eyes. “Let’s rekindle that spirit, then. Nothing more adventurous than a pub crawl!”

“What’re you trying to say?” He asked, eyeing her suspiciously.

“Nothing, nothing, you just seem to have gotten a little boring here in the city,” Kima teased, knowing full well she was just egging him on.

“Shaun Gilmore? Boring!” He gave her a disbelieving glance and threw his head back with laughter, and Kima grinned. 

“The sun’s just going down, now’s the time!” Gilmore said, and with a flourish he was down the stairs and out the door.

Kima tossed the sword she’d been wielding to the ground carelessly and followed, itching to see what kind of trouble they could get into.

 

The answer was: more than they anticipated.

The pub crawl started slow, testing the waters, having a few light drinks. They’d mostly sobered up from their previous excursion, and now they were in no hurry to get wasted. Gilmore had a good eye for taverns, and he knew most of them, but he insisted he was saving the best for last.

“Just tell me if I’ve been there before!” Kima asked, frustrated with playing the waiting game, as she downed a shot whiskey. They were in the second tavern of the night, a surprisingly nice place that was just starting to get crowded. A band played in the back, catchy but not memorable, and the staff were phenomenally animated. 

“Mmmmm,” Gilmore contemplated, knocking back his own shot and wincing just a little bit as it went down, “Almost definitely not. Probably never heard of it.”

“And why aren’t we going there nooooow!”

“It doesn’t pick up until later at night, trust me, I know what I’m doing. They wouldn’t know what to do if I showed up so early.”

And so it continued for the next few hours, as they bounced from place to place, with Gilmore giving recommendations at every corner. He knew who had the best food (the third tavern, roast chicken to die for), the best entertainment (the first, wonderful musicians and a magic show), and the best booze (yet to be discovered). Kima got incredibly drunk as the night went on, with Gilmore not far behind, until finally it was time.

“Last stop of the night, come on,” Gilmore said, tugging Kima by the arm. They walked away from where most of the other taverns were, in a part of town that Kima rarely went through. By then it was late, pushing towards midnight, but Kima had no intention of slowing down.

“You sure you know where we’re going?” she asked, stumbling behind him and laughing at the idea of being lost and drunk in the streets of Emon, a respected noble and a council-member’s wife. 

“I have a perfect sense of direction,” Gilmore claimed, pointing loosely down the street and picking up his pace, forcing Kima to focus as she followed him.

“He we are!” He proclaimed ten minutes later, in an empty street next to what looked like a storefront either closed or abandoned. 

“Gil, we’re too drunk,” Kima said, blinking a few times, as if she was missing something. “You tricking me? This some kind of illusion?” She thrust her hand towards the front and found only solid wood.

“The party is inside, trust me.”

He led her into the building, and he was not wrong.

They walked through the storefront, with proved to be a facade for the real place, which was a tavern with tables of rowdy drinkers. Gilmore strutted in with arms stretched wide and purple robe open at the chest to a chorus of “Gilmore!” as those in the tavern recognized him.

“Told you I knew what I was talking about,” he said, a little smugly, and Kima only raised an eyebrow. 

Best alcohol and best atmosphere easily went to this place, which Gilmore later told her was called Howarth’s, and if Kima thought they were drunk before than she was sorely mistaken.

They sat with a few people Gilmore knew, just as jovial as the man himself, and reveled in their drinking and laughter, until Kima overheard a conversation at another table. 

“-And to hell with the bloody fuckin council, and that snotty blue-robed bitch!” The voice came from a large human man, tall and wiry with broad shoulders and a worn face with shaggy brown hair.

Before Gilmore could get a word in, Kima was seeing red. She slammed her drink down on the table and marched over, scowling as she locked eyes with him. “Say that to my fuckin’ face.”

The man gave her a flippant glance, eyes lingering for just a second at the sword on her side. “What d’you care, tiny?”

“Kima!” Gilmore piped up meekly, eyes darting around nervously as the friends he’d been sitting with slowly backed away, and the tension in the tavern grew.

“That’s my wife you’re talking about, buddy, and I’m not afraid to gut you,” Kima snarled.

The man looked at his friends and laughed heartily. “I’d like to see you try,” he taunted, knocking back the rest of his drink and slamming it hard on the table, the sound resounding through the tavern. He got up and started walking towards the door, eyes on Kima and the same smirk on his face. 

Kima followed with slow, deliberate steps, seething with barely contained rage as she clenched her fists.

“I have to go, uh, deal with her,” Gilmore said hurriedly, in a hushed voice, and scurried out the door after them. 

“Kima!” he called again, but it fell on deaf ears as he watched her throw the first punch, hitting the man squarely in his side. His eyes widened with shock at the force of it, and Gilmore would’ve chuckled had he not been worried about Kima killing a man in the middle of the street.

The scuffle escalated as he frantically tried to figure out what to, with both of them giving it their drunken all. Kima was clearly winning, but he was nearly twice her size and using it to gain whatever advantage he could.

“Hey!” A voice called from the distance, and Gilmore whipped his head around to see a guard patrolling, and his heart sank. The last thing any of them, especially Allura, needed was for Kima to get arrested for fistfighting in the city streets. 

As the guard got closer and closer, Gilmore did the only thing he could think to do. He snapped his fingers and covered his eyes with his other hand, and when he opened them, both the guard and the man Kima had been fighting were sprawled on the ground, sleeping.

He fixed his panicked gaze on Kima, who looked confused, and snapped his fingers again, causing them to both vanish from sight. “Run!” he whispered, taking off down the street and listening for the footsteps of Kima behind him.

She followed, instinctively, and they had to keep calling out to each other to keep from getting lost as they tried to make their way, drunkenly, to Allura’s tower. It was nearly an hour past midnight, and as the initial adrenaline wore off they found themselves breathlessly laughing. 

By the time they got to the tower they were doubled over, their loud laughter coming from nothing to the outside observer, and Kima finally composed herself long enough to pull the door open and step into the foyer.

She walked in and leaned heavily against the wall, still caught in the final fit of giggles with Gilmore right behind her. She snapped out of it when she heard footsteps coming down the steps and saw Allura, dressed for bed and squinting with tired eyes, her hand glowing with magical light.

Kima immediately ran to gave her a hug, hearing laughter erupt again behind her as Gilmore watched Allura search frantically for what was in her home before snapping his fingers and dropping the spell.

Allura let out a slightly exasperated sigh and wrapped her arms around Kima, who she could now see clinging to her waist like her life depended on it. Allura bent down and kissed her gently, then looked at her more closely, saw the little scrapes and signs of a fight, and furrowed her brow. 

She glanced back at Gilmore, still standing in the doorway and holding back another fit of laughter. “What the hell did you do?”

**Author's Note:**

> Some hopefully enjoyable shenanigans for day one! I didn't intend to focus as much as I did on how much Kima loves her beautiful wife but hey


End file.
